Best Gushes Poems
He has announced his arrival. She waits,
Listening to the thunder cracking through
the layers of air. Looking at the lightning,
brightening and frightening the darkness away,
Lapping up the sweet petrichor that comes her way.
He gushes and rushes down to meet her.
In warm welcome, she opens up
to quench her unsatisfied thirst.
The twain meet and a silence follows,
As thick as the mist that envelops this inexplicable gloom.
Emotions flood the watery lane...
His constant showers drench her very soul...
New life awakens as old lives are cleansed, refreshed.
The earth has had her fill...
For now...
Drip...
drip...
drip...
Slowly the gentleman rain recedes...
He will come...
yet again...
to meet her...
With this rainbow promise, they part...
06/08/16
Haunted by the death of dreams
and slaughtering of innocence
but too afraid to dig up the bones
and examine our own mistakes,
we bury our heads instead,
blindly following greedy leaders
who give nothing but hollow words
and meaningless moments of silence.
I know I’m not the only one asking -
what more can we do?
As summer nears, sunlight stirs
in streams, surprising delicate gardens
with dreams of daffodils.
Their bright eyes, wide with secrets,
suddenly close, and their dainty petals
wither until they are no more.
Knowing these last days
of spring rain will remain,
summer retreats.
Soon, their daffodil dreams will be
just a memory.
After darkness falls, all is numb.
New roots breeding evergreen
suddenly turn dry and dull.
Promises forgotten,
potential lost to pain -
tomorrow’s tree weakening.
The shimmering green of innocence
is gone, but fiery guns are drawn.
How can we forget while whipping winds
constantly howl? How can we only cry
as hatred’s bullets continue to fly?
Smoky skies once boisterous and blue
now choke our most cherished blooms.
The silence of complacency
is evil’s sickening laughter,
Do you hear its rifle reloading faster?
My blue tears turn blood red,
anger gushes, flooding me
from sea to dimming sea
in this vast land of violence versus vulnerability.
We are no longer free to dream,
no longer free to tend to our gardens,
to breathe in and measure
each miraculous moment,
to watch our fragile flowers strengthen
and grow to beautiful heights.
With head bowed, I listen
to the silence of my tears falling
where the flowers once grew.
I can no longer hear the cries
of the fallen with petals blowing.
I only hear the howling winds
of this never-ending nightmare,
and again I ask,
what more can we do?
5/25/22
In the rundown little house where her family currently lives,
the fourteen-year old glances obediently at her glaring daddy,
nodding her head in quiet compliance
to his usual horrible demands of her for the evening.
Not to acquiesce would incur his utter wrath,
and that is something she has learned well by now to avoid.
Things are not like the old days, when she was twelve,
feeling so lost, and he would lavish her with little gifts:
bracelets with charms, cute purses, chocolate candies. . .
With warm aqua eyes, he’d smile his approval
as she whirled around the room, modeling a pretty dress for him.
In those days when her world had fallen apart, he’d taken her in.
His voice would softly soothe her then, chasing away her every fear.
Back to reality. Daddy’s voice now is laced with menace.
And his eyes are ice blue marbles staring through her.
“Do what wifey says,” he instructs her at the door
as she leaves with four other sisters and the one of legal age, her sister-wifey.
Leaning in to her, his breath like chill wind on her nape, he whispers,
“And you better be VERY good with your dates this time.”
The young girl, in high heels, slit skirt, and heavy makeup, has exited the door
when her daddy barks commands to his helper in the living room, and then
Daddy exits too, but through the garage, where a Mercedes Benz is parked.
He drives alone, a short trip across town to his other house -
the one with manicured lawn and garden and a large pool out back -
the large beautiful house where a real wife and a real daughter
await him.
“How was your day?” his beautiful young wife gushes
as he crosses the threshold in his expensive business suit.
“Oh, just another day at the office,” he quips,
leaning in to give her a soft kiss. Then his young daughter
comes bounding down the stairs, broadly grinning.
“Daddy, look at the new dress you bought me!”
She twirls with adolescent glee.
The man, with blue eyes dancing, looks his fourteen-year-old daughter
up and down. “Sweetie, you know I don’t like you wearing lipstick yet.”
“Oh, Daddy,” she teases, “I’ll be dating soon.”
“Afraid not,” he lovingly chides her. “Those boys will just have to wait
at least for two more years. For now, you are Daddy's little girl."
Light breezes moan through dawn's cracked window
I, wrapped in ivory silk, you as always, linger in place
Anticipating our morning ritual, sleepy desires move
Pleasured senses guide our thoughts in sync
Rhythmic expressions, elated vibrations
Fidgeting fingers lightly caress
At last the font gushes, between unfolded pages
Wherein chapters of new life begin
( A writer's affair with the pen)
Oh lovely lady of the poetic stream
Such beautiful verses we have seen
Your flowers more vibrant than heavens tone
Your mountains more majestic than ever known
Your pen full ways are filled with grace
As you take us to a wondrous place
When you dip inside your wishing well
We are transfixed from your magic spell
Oh Lovely lady of the shimmering stream
Enchant us now so we may dream
A volcanic resonance within your soul
Gushes out versus that make us whole
I stand yonder as I look and glean
Toward the lovely lady of the poetic stream.
March.03.2016 ^WW^
"I have never started a poem whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering."
- Robert Frost
Poetry is an art
That gushes from the heart,
When we pen our feelings,
It helps in mind's healings;
I'm sure you're concordant ~
Extremely important
Is poetry in life,
It helps overcome strife;
Unique men and women,
We fight battles with pen,
We are God's messengers,
Merely His presenters;
He gives the words, we write,
In this darkness, spread light,
It’s God’s gentle caress,
Relieves some of our stress;
Writing poems, we’re strong,
Trying to right some wrong,
Poetry makes us, us,
Writing is sure a plus.
11.24.2021
For Constance La France's ""W" New Poems" contest
Heart throbbing, euphoric,
like a giant slalom skier
the river gushes down
winding its reckless way
round obstacles and blind corners
unawed by imposing mountains
till it finally comes to the end
of its dizzy, breathless run
where the shimmering ocean waits
with eager yet patient anticipation.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Standard No 100
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Placed 1st
© 23rd May 2018
Thathud, boom boom boom
Thathud, boom boom boom
I listen
As drums beat in Africa
Voices rise above the pounding
Mourning
Crying out for their lost
For their feverish
Helpless people dying one loving touch at a time
Ebola, your tears bring destruction
You methodically make your way to the city
The river from which you flow is cursed
A stream of blood gushes forth
Pouring out and through Africa
Thathud, boom boom boom
You, Ebola
Travel in secrecy
Disguised as lesser diseases
Now the uncommon more common cold
You wear malaria like a illusionist's garment
Making your way through the marketplace
Taxicabs fill with your unsuspecting victims
Fear and ignorance, your loyal companions
Following you to the hospitals
Places of healing become decimated
The healers hands are not protected
Their fingers become your own
You whisper "take me home with you,
let me kiss the face of your loved ones!"
Still the drums continue to beat
Thathud, boom boom boom
Hear the beat of Africa's heart
Bring your Doctors across her borders
Open Samaritan's Purse
Ebola, must not win
Let us love Africa one person at a time
God's loving hand's poised to heal
Redemption is possible
He has not forgotten his children
Strength will once again course through their veins
Africa will sing a new song
The fever will break
Ebola, you cannot
Shall not
Will not
Silence the drums of Africa!
Thathud, boom boom boom
Thathud, boom boom boom
Thathud, boom boom boom........
Water, Water, Everywhere
Water, water everywhere,
In yards, houses and even cars,
Animals scramble to higher ground,
Dark, Angry Clouds hover above,
Thunder belts its fury,
Spilling the depths of its rage
Upon earth's vulnerable bed,
The sun tries fighting back,
But sun is no match for water,
For water's strength wins the battle,
All surrender to its great power.
Toys, rugs, clothes and chairs succumb,
Drapes collapse from their burden,
Enough, enough earth yells out,
But there is no stopping water now.
It gushes, it rushes and races,
Like a valiant soldier it charges,
Mercilessly destroying everything,
What fury, what relentless energy!
Water laughs in the face of its victims,
Bashing, crushing and thrusting,
Leaving nothing in its way,
Water, Water, Everywhere!
"...when power narrows the areas of man’s concern,
poetry reminds him of the richness
and diversity of his existence...”
--John F. Kennedy
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Soldiers of our armed forces,
Iraq, Afghan, Lebanon, many shores,
Light the way like liberty blazing torches
They fight heat, bugs, sand, tough faces,
urban warfare, darkness, crashed doors,
Soldiers of our armed forces
Now Send home change of addresses,
stories, photos, emails, strange places,
Light the way like iron cut by torches
Camouflage faces, wet bloody bruises,
brows sweating, under helmet gushes,
Soldiers of our armed forces
Sleep in sandy humid desert trenches,
thunder blast, bombs dropped, fire fights,
Light the way like laser torches
Loved ones wear yellow broaches,
anxiety, praise, tears, vague smiles,
Soldiers of our armed forces,
Light the way like liberty blazing torches.
© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., (Epulaeryu Master) 6/23/2010
All Rights Reserved.
I am a waterfall , cascading , descending , trickling down
all over your sunkissed shoulders , and a hundred bare thoughts .
Smell me , A delicate fragrance like that of drying cotton linen
perched on the line of an early Spring morn.
Hear me .Listen to my swish-swoosh sound
a distant echo of a babbling brook within your silence.
Taste me . Quench your thirst from the smooth outpour of my waters.
Have me . Have all I own , rippled palettes where I stirred
crimsons , whites and blues , to give you lilacs .
Moist velvet lilacs that tickle softly along your back ,
between your toes ,against the arms of your resistance.
Feel me, feel my fresh gushes extinguish embers
which burned too quick your camping hammock
and ripped you off a million candle dreams.
Let me be . Let me become the bed of promise in your lone night.
Let me stay . I'll stay , I sway and play. Like a mandarin's lullaby ,
I'll rock you slowly into sleep beneath a canopy of forest trees.
I am the waterfall , where once in yesterday your fingers tossed
the last of of coins , with atheistic need.
Here on the edge , I'm waiting for you , to grant your wish and your release.
Till you return I keep on falling , flowing down freely from mountain creeks.
The swell of cloudburst pours its showers;
gently tapping on night’s dewy aisle
while raindrops spill like pearly dots,
along a lush garden where ringlets flit.
O but that smile enthralls dusk’s approach,
upon her glow bridal buds enhance
as drizzles change hues in sky’s finery,
her gushes bearing gushes from corners of eyes.
A mellow dance of sleet frolics with the breeze
*while the rain kisses her cheeks her essence,*
this nearness which consumes wisp of air.
.............
6/8/2016
ika-labing-tatlo (13th): Rain, Rain come my way
binibining P.iNk’s Contest
*habang humahalik ang ulan sa kanyang mga pisngi,
sa kanyang kababaihang makabuluhan*
Call it alliteration or pun,
It is more than that ;
I write about my beloved sparrow that nests
on mountains and tree tops
just like the eagles of the north ;
Oh,sparrow! ,your arrow penetrates my narrow heart
deeply to make it shallow,
sending sparks through my body .
Call it alliteration or rhyme it is more than that ,
Sensation and blood compete for a race
through my veins and arteries ,
When I set eyes on you,
Air gushes into my lungs like a flowing stream,
As you open your mouth to speak ;
Your white enamel teeth shine more than the morning sun;
The synchronized movement of your body
sends signals to the synapse of my spine,
Which reverberates emotions to the hypothalamus of my brain,
How can I cope with this ?
My sorrow fades ,my pains vanish
When I got touched by you ;
Oh ,sparrow! Oh, dear!! How dare you
Incapacitate or incarcerate my thought ?
Thought of not falling in love with any damsel ;
not being fooled again ;
The padlock of three years unlocked in seconds ,
Which makes me sing songs of songs to Utopian lady ,
You faith strengthened me and your courage boost my ego;
I will continue to nod to your
Lyrics and dance to your music .
Call it alliteration or pun ,
You are not far from wonder land ,
Sweet sparrow sent to shake-off and shame sorrow ,
My unfailing love ,I unfold and unleash unto you….
1-17-2017
*A valentine poem dedicated to all lovers….
An instant Hindi Song with its English Version for Poetry Soup friends.
Hindi Lines in Roman English
"yoon to roj, baadal
bahut se aate hain
kabhee ud kar ye
kabhee yu heen chale jaate hain
kabhee barasate hain
saghan megh ban, kar ye
kabhee rang aur khusaboo se,
bikhar jaate hain.
Simate hote hain, inamen
teree bheenee see khusaboo ke
suhaane jhonke bhee
jo havaon ko bhee,
is fiza kee
mahaka jaate hain
par aate hain jab bhee
ye suhaane baadal
meree aankhon ko
nam karake jaate hain."
Song Lines in English
Every day, these clouds come and
They come in abundance,
Sometimes, they come flying and
they just go away,
Sometimes these clouds come
to shower their heavy rains,
But sometimes they spread only
Their fragrance and colours.
These clouds also contains
The gushes of your sweet pleasing fragrance,
Which diffuse the entire atmosphere
By the beauty of that mild aroma,
Which hangs everywhere.
Whenever
These beautiful clouds come
They fill my eyes
With some tears also.
Ravindra K Kapoor
14th Oct. 2019
This Instant song was written on 12th Oct, 2019 inspired by a colorful cloud photo I saw in face book.
face book URL-
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=2627095467341085&set=a.114474218603235&type=3&theater
Here, I lie motionless like the tint
of ocean's breath. A roulette's fading stars
glistens in tidal whisper of night,
and the incredibly sentient call
of migrant birds wing
on ribs of leaves where tenderness
gushes with tenderness.
clouds are scattering
in the midst of a blank pause...
lies a full mantle
Nayda Ivette Negron's Contest: Hope